The Doctor

I’ve had a really revolting cough that has been lurking around my lungs since the start of school. I am convinced that I have black lung or TB, but I didn’t want to go to the doctor because I felt that the action would be a tad too melodramatic. However, after a 3rd strait week of coughing my roommates insisted that I go see a doctor (or get kicked out of the house). I chose the first option and booked an appointment. I met with the doctor and was immediately homesick when I realized that he wasn’t going to prescribe me medicine like candy. It appears that in the UK they believe in ‘lifestyle changes’ before they drug you up.
Okay, so maybe I shouldn’t have expected drugs, but this is no ordinary cough. To diagnose me, all he did was ask me what drinks and foods I digest then listened to my chest for less then 3 seconds. After his crappy investigation he came to the following conclusions. First: That I had a regular cold that would go away on it’s own. Second: That I should eliminate coffee from my diet. Thirdly: That I should not drink anymore Green Tea. Fourthly: No more alcohol.

I considered explaining to him that without those three vices I would be back in 24 hours complaining of depression, but thought better of it. He struck me as the type with little patience for people with complaints.
I walked out of the doctor lightheaded (from more coughing) and miserable. I had asked how long I would have to abstain from three of my favorite things, but all he said was ‘as long as possible,’ which translated meant ‘I don’t care and get the F&*$ out of my office.’

I shall not take American doctors for granted ever again.